


umbrella buddies

by Purpleologist



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Almost Kiss, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Concerts, Dancing in the Rain, Established Adam/Shiro (Voltron), Keith & Shiro (Voltron) are Siblings, Keith (Voltron) is a Mess, M/M, Pride, Texting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-24 05:02:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19166353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Purpleologist/pseuds/Purpleologist
Summary: Lance grinned like there wasn’t a storm (or maybe he grinned like there was, because under the never-ending dredge and dim far-off lights of the outer edges of the amphitheater, Lance glowed) and started to sing along with the song that Keith couldn’t even understand, lyrics snatched away in the buffeting wind like it wanted to steal every ounce of this boy for itself (who wouldn’t? Who wouldn’t want this golden boy of sky-wide smiles and dancing in rainstorms and making him forget that his clothes would never be dry?).In which there's a concert, a storm, and an umbrella.





	umbrella buddies

**Author's Note:**

> I went to a concert last Thursday and when an absolute stranger who stunk of cigarettes invited herself under my umbrella, I immediately thought of My Boys

It was the first week of June, the concert was an hour late, and Keith just wished aliens would abduct him already.

Actually, no, he wished aliens would attack Earth and blow up the whole amphitheater so that he didn’t have to go home and deal with Shiro, who was too love-struck and kiss-drunk by his  _ boyfriend _ to realize that Keith was having the worst time in his  _ entire _ life.

Alright, that was a bit dramatic.

It was raining.

No, it was  _ storming _ .

It was eight o’ clock on a Thursday night, school was over for the year, he was  _ supposed _ to be enjoying a Voltron concert with his family, and instead he had to deal with a fucking monsoon.

He’d been looking forward to this (and Keith Kogane does not look forward to much: motorcycle races, his daily trip to the coffee shop to get the exact same dark-and-bitter-as-his-soul drink, Pride month, and live concerts of his favorite bands. Tonight’s plans were supposed to meet two of four, and so he’d actually been somewhat  _ excited _ for once). He was wearing his favorite t-shirt for the band, black (what else?) and slightly washed-out with a rainbow decal emblazoned on the fron, and he had on shorts (of his own free will this time! And not just because Shiro insisted he would get heat stroke!) with (somewhat regrettable) flip-flops that showed off the rainbow-painted toes he’d let Adam give him this morning. His jacket had been left in the car (not at home,  _ never _ at home, regardless of the weather. The four long blocks to the car were about as far as he would let himself be from that jacket) and he’d forgone letting his hair hang in the so-called “mullet”, allowing Shiro to have a field day attempting to put a braid in (he’d done half his head in a lame attempt to get his bangs out of his eyes, leaving his forehead uncomfortably bare).

In return for his ever-valuable emotional investment, he got  _ rained on _ .

Of fucking course.

His feet were drenched, his ass was cold, and his legs would  _ never _ see sunlight again if he had anything to do with it (not that there was much sunlight right now, gray skies and all).

He had half a mind to stomp over to Shiro right this very minute and complain until Shiro and Adam stopped being  _ gross _ and took him back home (he was  _ not _ being a petulant child, despite what he could already hear Adam saying), but that would involve standing and moving and  _ that _ would involve getting even  _ more _ wet and he was absolutely  _ not _ here for that.

Before he could truly weigh his options, however, a pair of lanky tan legs stepping in front of him, effectively blocking his view of the very empty (and very dry) stage.

“Mind if I join you?” the legs asked, sliding under the (clearly single-person) umbrella and turning into a just-as-lanky and just-as-tan boy, all sandy brown hair and shining blue eyes.

Ignoring the very  _ rude _ invitation this boy had offered himself and instead focusing on the  _ other _ issue, Keith grimaced at the stale stench. “You smell like cigarette smoke.”

“What?” he yelled over the din of the pouring rain.

“I said you smell like smoke!” he shouted, and the boy laughed (damn him for laughing like that when he stunk so badly, because it was sending  _ very _ conflicting signals to Keith’s brain).

“My sister’s fault! She thinks smoking makes her look cooler.” He leaned back, out of the sparse safety the umbrella provided, to stick his tongue out at a lanky girl wearing a thoroughly soaked crop top and high-waisted shorts (a girl Keith had previously thought to be the boy’s girlfriend, when he’d given them a passing glance, but upon actually looking, concluded that they were more likely siblings, twins even). The girl flipped him off, sipping a beer from behind soaked sheets of hair, completely unperturbed by the downpour.

The boy leaned back into safety and smiled (and damn that smile too, for shining so bright in the grayness of the storm and making things not quite as bleak as they were five minutes ago).

“That’s Rachel.”

Keith nodded to his brother, obnoxiously making out with Adam, the pair barely half-covered by the equally-obnoxious rainbow towel. “That’s Shiro.”

“I’m Lance.” The boy—  _ Lance _ extended a hand the mere inch between them, grinning all the while despite the water dripping down his bangs that now clung to his forehead.

“Keith.” He struggled to shake his hand in cramped confines, getting his elbow thoroughly drenched in the process.

“So, you like Voltron?” Lance asked.

“Would I be at the concert if I didn’t?”

“Fair point, fair point.” Lance silenced for barely a moment, shifting his stunning eyes to their front to stare out at the continuing rain. “You think they’re gonna cancel?”

“Sure fucking hope so,” Keith replied curtly, earning a long and dramatic gasp.

“Fiend! Liar! Slander!” Keith barley shifted to look at him with one eyebrow raised (it would’ve nothing if he’d done it without turning, as Lance was seated on his left and his best “unimpressed” eyebrow was his right). “You claim to love them, and yet you hope they cancel!”

Keith couldn’t help but smile, despite usually hating overdramatics (he got enough from Shiro, for Christ’s sake). “Do you see this weather?”

Lance grumbled for a moment, before grinning that damning grin of his. “I don’t know, I think I need to get closer.”

“You need to—” Before he could finish the statement, Lance was out from under his umbrella almost as quickly as he’d arrived, lanky tan legs bouncing in front of his vision. Against all sense, Keith tilted the umbrella back to watch as Lance grinned down at him, smile as wide as the dark and foreboding clouds in the sky, ignoring the river of water wiggling its way down the back of his shirt. 

Lance’s mouth moved, but the words were lost in a rumble of thunder.

“What?” Keith shouted.

“Dance with me!” Without waiting for an answer, Lance grabbed his hand, tugging Keith to his feet so suddenly that the umbrella (which was just as obnoxiously rainbow as Shiro and Adam’s towel, because it was June, and that mean that their little family made up of exclusively three gay men went  _ all out _ ) tumbled to the ground at his feet. Lance bounced in place to the barely-audible music that blasted from stage speakers (nothing even  _ close _ to Voltron’s music, sadly, but was that AC/DC he heard?), grip still vice-tight on Keith’s hand, jolting his arm up and down and up and down until he had no choice but to jump (not dance, it was the furthest thing from dancing, barely even jumping) along with him.

Lance grinned like there wasn’t a storm (or maybe he grinned like there was, because under the never-ending dredge and dim far-off lights of the outer edges of the amphitheater, Lance  _ glowed _ ) and started to sing along with the song that Keith couldn’t even understand, lyrics snatched away in the buffeting wind like it wanted to steal every ounce of this boy for itself (who wouldn’t? Who wouldn’t want this golden boy of sky-wide smiles and dancing in rainstorms and making him forget that his clothes would never be dry?).

Keith suddenly retracted  _ every _ comment he’d made in his mind about Lance being rude (though he hardly forgave it, because one did not  _ simply _ invite oneself under one's umbrella and  _ not _ receive lifelong repercussions) and instead opted for smiling like an utter dumbass as Lance laughing himself silly, tugging him closer until their chests collided.

Their breaths mixed and Keith wondered how he’d  _ ever _ thought it was Lance who was smoking, because there wasn’t a trace of it on his breath and  _ oh _ —

They were  _ really _ close.

And Lance’s eyes were  _ hypnotizing _ with all their swirling mischievous blue and they were holding hands and they were both smiling like dumbasses and Keith vaguely wondered if Shiro would judge him for kissing a stranger (not that Shiro  _ hadn’t _ , but Shiro had never done it sober, and was he even really sober if he was drunk on Lance’s smile, dazed and lazy?)

They leaned closer and closer, noses brushing and then—

Lightning struck.

_ Literally _ .

(Fuck lightning.)

The crowd grew silent in a shocked wave, Keith jumping (fuck his nerves) as Shiro and Adam broke apart, the whole of the amphitheatre staring in awe at the ghost of the lightning, electric haze settling over in the distance.

Keith had been so surprised, he hadn’t even noticed when Lance’s hand slipped from his, warmth growing steely-cold in the ever-present rainstorm.

He looked around frantically, hating the way his heart jumped at every head of soaked brown hair and miles of tan skin.

He was only greeted by Shiro placing the umbrella in his hand, ruffling his rain-soaked hair and saying “Don’t want to let it get away.”

He resisted the urge to tell his brother that he probably already had.

* * *

 

“You smell like smoke,” Adam told him curtly as they piled into the car (a mini-van, because Shiro could only be  _ so _ cool). Keith fought a smile as he hummed in agreement, turning to smell his shoulder that indeed stunk of the very same smoke Lance had. “A bit of vinegar when you throw it in the wash should get it out.”

“Yes, Mom,” Keith replied, burying the smile as best as he could beneath a thick layer of his usual sarcasm.

“Hey!” Shiro snapped, turning around from the driver’s seat. “Show your mother some respect!” His cheeky grin earned him an eye roll and a tired “Just drive, Takashi,” followed by various affectionate endearments traded back and forth between the two of them.

But Keith wasn’t thinking about them (not that he did often, or at least not of his own will, as they had the frequent habit of making themselves known in every train of thought, usually Adam mother-henning him or warning him against some stupid stunt).

Keith was thinking about Lance.

The Lance with the smile and the eyes and the laugh that not even the storm could steal.

The Lance that occupied his thoughts all the way through the concert he’d waited weeks for, distracting him from even his favorite songs (which Shiro had noticed with a raised eyebrow and a small grin).

The Lance that...

 

_ Hey keith :) _

 

The Lance that apparently got his phone number, somehow.

“Is that the cute boy?” Adam asked from the passenger’s seat, soliciting an extremely undignified squawk from Keith as he fumbled with his phone and dropped it.

“Adam, he didn’t  _ know _ ,” Shiro chastised, shaking his head as he drove, stealing a glance at his boyfriend with a smile.

“Shiro,” Keith began, narrowing his eyes (and vainly trying to stealthily pick his phone up and type a return text to Lance without his brother or vaguely-parental-unit seeing, which was obviously failing, as Adam still had that shit-eating grin on his face). “Did you give my phone number to a strange boy at a concert?  _ Without my permission? _ ”

“If you mean ‘Did I give your number to a boy that you danced in the rain with and stared at dreamily then  _ didn’t _ give your number to, because you’re a fucking dumbass?’—”

“Language, Takashi.”

“Babe, he’s eighteen, it’s not like he hasn’t heard it.” Shiro promptly returned to his shaming. “Anyway, if  _ that’s _ what you mean, then absolutely.”

“I wasn’t… Staring at him dreamily,” Keith muttered.

 

_ hey _

 

“Well, you are now!”

“Eyes on the road!”

“I can drive just fine, it was barely a look.”

“ _ Eyes on the road, Takashi _ . I am not getting into an accident because you were too busy mocking Keith.”

“I’m not mocking him! I’m just pointing out that he’s smiling for once, and he’s even blushing!”

 

_ Sorry for goin behind ur back _

_ Had go get ur nmb somehw _

_ Als tell ur bro ty _

 

Keith resisted the urge to grimace at Lance’s horrible texting, quickly saving his contact before replying (he would forget, he  _ always _ forgets. Names are like pennies; easy to find, easier to lose).

 

_ i’ll tell him before i murder him _

 

_ Oh no!!!!! _

_ Pls don’t _

_ He was nice _

_ brb, cleaning the knife _

_ Smh _

 

Keith was  _ not _ blushing.

He  _ wasn’t _ .

 

_ So theres another concert like,,, 4 away _

_ Tmrw _

_ you’re literally leaving a concert right now _

_ you want to go to another? _

_ after THIS weather? _

_ Well, idk _

_ What else would u wanna do for a date? _

 

Oh.

 

_ Sorry was that to fast? _

_ We can do othr stff 1st _

_ Planatonically _

_ *platonically _

_ Oh _

 

“Fuck,” Keith muttered, resisting the urge to bang his head against Shiro’s headrest.

“What did you do?” his brother instantly accused, navigating the streets with easy despite Adam’s incessant fretting.

“I fucked up.”

“I got that, what did you  _ do _ ?”

“I may have accidentally made him believe that I didn’t want to go out with him.”

“Must be genetic,” Adam muttered, earning a light-hearted slap on the knee from Shiro.

“What did you say after that?”

“Nothing.”

“Text him back!” Shiro insisted, “Tell him—”

“Nope.” Adam nearly slapped his hand over Shiro’s mouth. “No advice from you.” He turned to Keith with an exhausted smile. “What exactly did you say?”

Keith turned his phone for Adam to see and he could pinpoint the  _ exact  _ moment that Adam lost all faith in him (it was quite easy, as it had happened more than once and, prior to that, had been directed at Shiro more times than could be counted). Shiro spared him a glance and laughed.

“Now  _ that _ he gets from you.”

“Psh, that’s more Matt.”

“No, Matt is more ‘what the ever-loving  _ fuck _ does that word mean’.” Adam reluctantly nodded in agreement, briefly abducting Keith’s phone to type a brief return message before turning a brief return message before turning it back around for approval (it was  _ barely _ approval, more like “I’m sending this and giving you a headstart on the regret”).

 

_ Hello, Lance. This is Adam (not Keith’s brother). Keith is a dumbass and would very much like to go on a date with you. He likes motorcycles and coffee. _

 

“I don’t like coffee  _ that _ much,” Keith muttered as his phone was returned to him, message sent (as expected) and awaiting Lance’s perplexed response.

 

_ Oh um _

_ Saturday altea cafe? _

 

“You’re welcome,” Adam said smugly, earning twin stuck-out-tongues from the brothers.

 

_ sure _

_ 3 work? _

_ Yeah _

_ Its a date :) _


End file.
